


The Changeless Sea

by skybound2



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skybound2/pseuds/skybound2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Traveling with Sten to his homeland after the death of the Archdemon, the sea turns out to be somewhat more than what the Warden had expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Changeless Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fragilecat](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fragilecat).



>   
> 
> 
> **Author's Note**: I was offering up "drabbles" and **fragilecat** requested one on the Warden and Sten traveling to Seheron. So, of course I wrote 2000 words. Which I don't think still qualifies as a drabble, but *shrugs* what can you do, eh? Also, I've taken some liberties with what the actual 3D geography of Thedas may look like (i.e., what you can't tell by looking at a map), because there simply isn't enough background to tell what the place does and does not look like. And yes, I quote the Qun in here.

There was salt in her eyes. And in her ears. On her tongue. Frankly, there was salt everywhere; and she was growing rather sick of it. No one had every told her just how much salt could be kicked up from the ocean mists as a ship sailed across the sea. Granted, being forearmed with that knowledge would not have dimmed her interest in this trip in the slightest, but she might have packed a heavier cloak. And a helm. Definitely a helm. With one of those face guards that some men were so fond of (she normally hated the things, always felt like she was wearing a bucket on her head, but she could see the use for one now).

She needed this. This time away from Ferelden; from the destruction that the blight had reeked on Denerim. From Alistair...and Zevran. There was too much there for her to deal with at the moment, too many life-altering decisions that needed to be made. Not to mention, she wanted nothing to do with seeing Alistair and Anora wed. Regardless of whose idea it may have been. She just wasn't that masochistic.

When Sten had extended the offer for her to join him, she'd been floored. And grateful. Their friendship had grown quickly during their darkspawn riddled travels, but she had never imagined that he would wish to show her his homeland. He had become a steadfast presence in her life, even when everything else seemed to be in a constant state of flux. During the times when the weight of all that had been heaped on her shoulders pressed her knee-deep into the ground, the words he offered her were never ones of comfort. Instead, they seemed to be chosen to dig a trench around her. Getting to the heart of the matter more than any platitudes ever could. The thought of him leaving her behind once the Archdemon had been slain had been painful, and she was glad to have the chance to part ways with him on their own terms. It was worth putting up with salt in any number of unmentionable places to do so.

The sensation of salt blanketing her body was not entirely unpleasant though, but more...unfamiliar. And Kallian was a master of dealing with the unfamiliar. On this particular occasion (that being the first day of the second half of the umpteenth week of her travel to Sten's homeland) she had chosen to deal with this unfamiliar feeling by opting to remain in the small accommodations that Sten had acquired for them.

No one ever said that facing the unfamiliar head on was always the best policy; something Kallian had learned better than anyone in the past year. She was just beginning to ponder on the benefits of remaining sequestered in her nightclothes for the remainder of their travels, when the sound of the door opening sent her scurrying under her covers, scratchy and threadbare though they may have been.

"Kadan."

Kallian was consistently impressed with how Sten could deliver that word with both respect and irritation, but she supposed he'd had plenty of practice. She sighed from beneath the heavy cloth. "Yes, Sten?"

"You are awake."

"Yes."

"Yet you still linger in bed."

"I'm comfy."

"Could you not be equally comfortable on deck?"

"No, I don't think that I could." Truth be told, it wasn't just the salt that Kallian was hiding from. She had never seen the ocean before this trip. Not truly. The closest she had come had been that night on Isabela's boat. It had been dark then and, well, she'd been a bit distracted at the time. So, when she had boarded this vessel in Ferelden lo those many weeks ago, she had been unprepared for the simple..._vastness_ of it all. Kallian thought she finally understood what Oghren felt when he looked up at the sky. "It's too wet up there to be comfortable."

"_Vashedan!_" Without ceremony, he ripped the covers from her body, causing her to yelp in a most undignified manner. "You have spent far too much time coddling yourself. Come. It is time for lunch, and there is something I wish you to see."

Intrigued, she peeled open one eyelid. "What is it?"

He gave her what, for Sten at least, passed as a playful look, "Come." It was not a question, and so he did not wait for a response before exiting the room.

She huffed and she puffed, but five minutes later she shuffled onto the deck (and yes, maybe she _did_ cling to the railings a bit more than necessary on the way there – but the boat _rocked_ so much, it could hardly be helped). Her eyes never left the floorboards, so accustomed had she grown to avoiding the long stretches of _nothing_ that the ocean was made of, that she was able to locate Sten without ever looking up.

She'd grown quite adept at picking out his feet amongst the passengers on board.

Reluctantly, she joined him by the railing, opting to lean her back against it, and facing her body inwards, towards the main portion of the deck. She stayed silent, enjoying the comfort that his presence brought her, knowing that he would speak when ready. When several minutes had passed, during which the boat seemed to rock less than usual, she was proven right.

"What do you know of my homeland?" His voice was thick and calm. The deep tone of it resonated in a way she found most pleasant.

She glanced up and met his violet gaze. The look on his face was not the same one of condemnation that he often delivered to those around him. Instead he seemed contemplative, and almost patient. A look she was self-aware enough to know he reserved for very few people, her being one of them. "I know that you hail from Seheron, a city located on an island of the same name. It is situated west of the Anderfels, within the Boeric Ocean." She smirked as his mouth began to draw down in a frown, and continued. "I know that its teas are strong – nothing at all like the 'watered down weeds' that we drink in Ferelden," She leaned back, crossing her arms in front of her, her gaze never leaving his. "But that its incense is even heavier in odor, yet still sharp. I know that there, the women are never warriors," she matched his cocked eyebrow with one of her own, "and that magi are silent. I know that their meals are heavy on fish and game, and light on cookies and cakes. And I know that when you speak of it, your entire demeanor both relaxes and contracts. You long for it, but are worried about returning as well."

Sten continued to stare at her for many, long minutes. "You show surprising insight, Kadan."

"Mmm. Or perhaps I just know how to listen. Even to the silence. Now, what is it you wanted to show me?"

He blinked at her – just once – and the action as simple as it was, told her that he had been caught off guard by her abrupt change in topic. "Turn. You will see."

She shivered. She had no desire to look out over the waves again. He had tried this several times during the course of the voyage, and the most improvement she had so far was learning to keep the sea-sickness at bay long enough to make it back to their quarters. "I've seen just about as much of the ocean as I can take for one trip, Sten."

"It is not the ocean I wish for you to see, Kadan."

She arched an eyebrow in question, "Then what...?"

"Turn."

She heaved a breath, dropping her chin. She hated this bit of weakness that she had discovered in herself. "Sten-"

"_Parshaara_!" His voice rumbled in a growl as he moved in front of her, taking her arms into his much larger hands and turning her tense form around. He maintained his stance behind her, dropping his hands to the railing on either side, effectively removing any means of escape. "You have defeated an Archdemon and lived. Now open your eyes."

He was right. She knew he was right. But that didn't make the queasy feeling in her stomach any less real. Still, she forced her eyes open. Slowly at first. Soon enough, however, they were open as wide as she could get them. "What – what is that?" Before her, jutting out of the water was an endless wall of glittering red and yellow. Weathered rock and stone; stretching out for mile after mile. She could see no beginning or end as it curved into the horizon. The mere size of the wall dwarfed anything else she had ever seen. Save perhaps the trenches they had encountered deep within Orzammar. But then, those did not have the brilliance of the sun shining off of them in a blinding arc of light.

"Those are the burning cliffs of Par Vollen." His words were spoken with the reverence that he reserved solely for his homeland, or Asala.

"It's..." She gulped in a breath of air, "they're beautiful."

He made a non-committal noise above her head; his large presence the same looming comfort it had become to her long ago. "They signal our return to the lands of my people. We are but three days from Seheron."

She nodded, unable to tear her eyes from the brilliant sight before her. A tremble washed over her as she listened to the sound of the waves crashing against the stone. The water had done this. Worn away at the defenses of the rock, until its image was carved forever in a rippling pattern against their surface. Distantly, she wondered what Shale would think about that.

Sten moved behind her as he redistributed his weight, brushing up against her back as he continued to cage her in. "_Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra."_ The words flowed like water, splashing over her ears. The words sounded foreign on his tongue due more to the delicacy with which they were uttered then with the language that he used.

Kallian took a minute to steady her breathing, still in awe as she was. "My apologies, but I'm afraid that I didn't quite catch all of that."

A breath of air disturbed the hair upon her head as he replied. "Struggle is an illusion. The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless." He paused for a moment, the weight of his words sinking into her soul. "There is nothing to struggle against."

Though she loathed doing so, she broke her gaze from the sight before her in order to turn her head up towards Sten as he gazed down at her. "I wouldn't know how..."

"You will learn, Kadan."

"How can you be so sure?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, "Life demands it. I assume that you wish to continue living?" She nodded. "Good." He dropped his arms, and took a step back from her. The loss of his body heat caused a shiver to run up her spine. "Now come, we have spent far longer here then I intended, and lunch is waiting."

As was typical for Sten, he did not wait for her response, just headed towards the mess hall. The wind began to pick up, ripping strands of her dark hair from its bun, and she took a moment to glance back at the cliffs. A rough mist blew over the railing of the boat, buffeting her in its spray and forcing her to suck in a breath of sea-salted air. She smiled, for once enjoying the sensation. With one last lingering look over the water to the cliffs beyond, she turned on her heel and headed in for lunch.

~ End


End file.
